Cultivating Dignity in Unsettled Times: A Commencement Address from CBI's Merrick Hoben

On May 10th, 2025, CBI’s Merrick Hoben—director of our Washington office—delivered La Roche University’s commencement address, in which he focused on the need to nurture dignity in difficult circumstances. Below is the full text of his address:

President Clark, esteemed faculty, proud families, beloved friends, and—most importantly—La Roche University's 59th graduating class: Congratulations!

And thank you for the honor of joining you today. I know there were many distinguished voices to choose from, and I remain gratefully surprised that you invited someone who works in dispute resolution rather than a returning astronaut or viral TikTok philosopher.

But when you think about it, it all makes sense—La Roche has been for decades, and will continue to be, a home for spirited dialogue and community across difference. Maybe not with fireworks and shouting matches we so often see in today’s public realm, but with quiet conviction and deep respect. Not the stuff of viral drama, but rather the threads that actually hold communities together.

Which brings me to this: your goal as graduates isn't to avoid friction in your pending careers and lives. It's to engage it well. As the pioneering thinker Mary Parker Follett wisely observed, "All polishing is accomplished through friction."

Looking at the brilliant shine on each of you today—305 graduates from 13 states and 25 countries, including the first recipients of the Doctorate in Nurse Anesthesia Practice—I see the result of productive friction, of challenges embraced rather than avoided.

Because whether you're headed into business, management, design, education, nursing, ministry, the natural or behavioral sciences, film, or the arts, the reality is this: we live in a fractured, yet still beautiful, complicated world. And we are not all going to align.

When I graduated with my master's in resource policy and human behavior from the University of Michigan in the previous century (1999 :)!), I carried a powerful framework with me from the world of dispute resolution. The theory went like this: if people in complex disputes can better understand each other's needs, and generate solutions that meet those needs better than their alternatives, then progress is possible.

And it is. This insight is real, and it has helped resolve everything from public policy tensions to global development conflicts.

But for me, it doesn't capture the whole picture. Because, across my 26-year career, I've learned that something even deeper than problem-solving is often required:

Cultivating Dignity – for others and ourselves.

Before we can fix a problem, we must affirm the humanity of those across from us. Before we co-design a solution, we have to see, and be seen.

So, on this graduation day, I offer you a metaphor. Life's toughest challenges—its moments of disagreement, difference, and uncertainty—are like making soup.

A few years ago, while working in rural Colombia on peacebuilding efforts following decades of armed conflict, my team and I faced an impasse. We were supporting dialogue among companies, former combatants, community leaders, and displaced families—each carrying pain, history, and distrust. Tensions were real, and our usual tools weren’t creating traction.

So we tried something different. Together with the stakeholders, we co-envisioned a short documentary film—not a slick production, but a simple story—about the making of sancocho, Colombia’s beloved communal stew. The film traced how, in different regions, communities come together across differences to prepare this slow-cooked dish, each bringing a piece of the whole: yuca, plantain, a good carne (meat), and fresh herbs. No single ingredient completes the soup.

We screened the film in a small community hall. At first, people were quiet. Then, they began to share their own memories of sancocho: who made it, when, with whom. Before long, people who had once sat across divides were trading recipes and laughter, along with deeper reflections on the trauma of the regional conflict at hand.

And something shifted. The room softened. Dialogue resumed—not magically, not perfectly, but with renewed connection. That afternoon, we didn’t just share ideas—we shared identity, story, and soup.

That experience, among others across my career, taught me something no framework ever could: before people can resolve a problem, they often need to be reconnected—to be reminded that they belong in the same pot.

And so, the soup that nourishes the most, especially in hard times, is what I call the Soup of Dignity.

It has four key ingredients:

Deepening Acknowledgment

How do you show others that you see them? That you are paying attention? That you hear them, even when you disagree? David Foster Wallace reminded us, in his now-iconic speech, that "the most obvious, important realities are often the hardest to see." And so, we begin with attention—because as Simone Weil wrote, "attention is the greatest form of generosity."

Strengthening Agency

When we listen well, how do we move from insight to shared action? How do we co-define the problem, rather than arguing over who's to blame? From protests to dinner table divides, today’s disagreements frankly can feel impossible to navigate. But dignity isn’t soft—it’s the strongest force we have in building bridges where others build walls. Thus, in a polarized world, helping others rediscover their voice and capacity is revolutionary.

Enhancing Reciprocity

How do we create spaces of exchange that reflect our cultures, our values, and our dreams—without making them echo chambers? As David Brooks says, moral beauty is found in those who make others feel seen and safe. Reciprocity isn't about agreement—it's about care.

Ensuring Clarity

And finally: as solutions begin to take shape, how do we name our shared responsibilities? Ambiguity is the birthplace of conflict. Clarity about our commitments is an act of service. When we explicitly state expectations and roles, we prevent the misunderstandings that so often derail our best intentions. A clear commitment, clearly expressed, is a gift to those around us.

Now, some of you may say, "That's all well and good, but I'm not headed into a career of conflict resolution." To which I say: not so fast—you deal with complex humans every single day.

Every person in today's ceremony has overcome something to reach this milestone. Looking across this remarkably diverse group, I see living proof of La Roche's commitment to global understanding. And I see the future leaders who will carry that understanding forward.

In a time of fast-moving technology, in an era when artificial intelligence may automate tasks and transform industries, what remains unmistakably and irreplaceably human is your capacity for dignity-creating connection. No algorithm can truly acknowledge another's humanity. No machine learning model can authentically strengthen agency in others. These remain uniquely human gifts.

So today, I don't just celebrate your academic success. I celebrate your capacity to carry this dignity into the world.

May you deepen your acknowledgement. May you strengthen your agency. May you enhance your reciprocity. May you ensure your clarity of roles and responsibility.

And as you leave this ceremony, may you carry forward La Roche's tradition of hospitality and friendship, symbolized in many cultures by the offering of bread and salt (perhaps paired now with your own dignity soup). Just as this ancient ritual welcomes strangers as friends, may you welcome different perspectives not as threats, but as invitations—to listen, to learn, and to grow.

Congratulations, Class of 2025. The world desperately, and deservedly, needs your gifts and your unique recipes of spirit and intellect. May you offer them generously.